


Only by yourself

by captainhurricane



Series: Inspired by art [19]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Gen, Masturbation, Shiro needs a break
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-31
Updated: 2017-01-31
Packaged: 2018-09-21 04:13:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9530978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainhurricane/pseuds/captainhurricane
Summary: Sometimes the noise inside gets to be too much so Shiro retreats to his room.





	

**Author's Note:**

> insp once more by my friend's [beautiful picture. ](http://yumikoyuki.tumblr.com/post/156591960324/ah-shiro-always-a-pleasure)mm. 10/10 would pet space daddy's muscles.

On the days when the noise in his head gets to be a little too much, Shiro retreats to his room without a word. He digs up certain memories, the ones that burn hot, the ones that bring a sweet flush to his cheeks and locks his door tight. It’s a sure sign of Do Not Disturb and his fellow Paladins rarely, if ever, do. 

If they did, well- 

Shiro lets his clothes drop to the floor, trails fingers- even the mechanical ones warmed up by his body heat- down every inch of exposed skin, feels the tremble in his muscles from training, from battles, listens to the bad noise in his head dwindle into nothing more than dull ache. 

He imagines long limbs wrapped around his waist, imagines hands, mouths on his skin, remembers to dig up the slightly glowing bottle of lube from his nighttable- oh, the face Allura had made when Shiro had asked her for it, just for showering and all, Shiro’s scars do need some extra care and all- and slick up his warm, warm hand. 

His own voice slips out easily, becomes a groan, a muffled moan even when he knows it would take quite much to be heard through the thick door to his room. And it’s embarrassing to hear the need in his own voice, his own slick, slick hand stroking his throbbing cock. 

His mind slips to past kisses, to phantom mouths on his mouth, on his neck, swallowing his cock down whole- had that happened? Does it matter? Shiro twists his wrist, thumb slipping on the slick of his pre-cum and the cool lube, his eyes finally drift closed as he lets himself fall on the bed. 

Blindly he drags a pillow under his head and begins to move his hips, imagining, remembering a voice calling his name, whispering it into his ear, against his cock, against his ass- oh, oh, yes, he fucks into his hand quicker, then forces himself to slow down, hips thrusting almost lazily. 

Nothing lazy about his mind running through every scenario imaginable, remembering things that had happened, could have happened, might still happen, all the bad pain of his head gone and forgotten for these few hot moments. 

He doesn’t mind how the Galra-metal tastes in his mouth, swirls his tongue over three of his (theirs, they took his hand, they took it-) fingers, can’t find the lube but it doesn’t matter, not when he chokes on the lust and need and the thickness of his fingers. 

Shifting on his back is easy, spreading his legs and bending his knees less but he manages, giving his tightened balls a squeeze. He’s moaning now, head full of fantasies, lost somewhere between a mouth or two or three and hands, hands everywhere, stroking, caressing, pulling him closer to the edge that teeters somewhere a little too far for him to touch. 

He circles his entrance with curious, slick fingers, forces the first one in a little too roughly, takes the curious stab of feeling in a stride. His thighs shake as he runs his stained hand down his skin, trailing over quivering muscle and imagining, oh, God, oh- he forces himself on his stomach, forces his cum-stained fingers into his mouth and gags on the taste and the scent and the force but sucks on them like being told to. His ass accepts a second finger, then a third. 

Yes, like this, like this is good, like this he can imagine hands on his hips and a cock in his ass, sliding into him with enough force to make him and the bed shake. Shiro rubs himself against the sheets, eyes tightly closed, mouth gasping and letting out husky little moans. He reaches and finds the lube, bangs his hand on it and slathers it over himself, over his hand, over his ass and the fingers fucking into him- god, if only it was a cock, a thick one, a long one, a small one, it doesn’t matter, something throbbing that would strike him exactly where he needed it the most. 

He buries his face into his pillow and sneaks a hand under himself, around himself, can now feel the familiar heat making his toes curl, his muscles tighten. His mind drifts, unfocused on anything but memories images hallucinations of being taken care of, of being taken so fully he forgets that there is an universe out there, that he’s who he is- he can be just a man, just a human, a mess of heat and desire. 

When he spills all over his hand and sheets he muffles his cry into the pillow, trails his hand over his ass, gives it a squeeze and a smack, doesn’t bother to hide the whimper that elicits. He lets himself flop back down, lets himself shake and tremble through the best high, through the mindless bubble of bliss until it bursts and the warmth trickles off him like it was never there.


End file.
